


Get Your Goat (or Wooing Fauns for Dummies)

by Aylwyyn228, littleblackfox



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bucky Barnes is an idiot, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019, Cute, Fauns & Satyrs, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kinda, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, deer!Bucky, faun!Steve, so is Steve tbf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:04:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/pseuds/littleblackfox
Summary: There were a lot of things people knew about fauns.Bucky knew that much.Satyrs too, but Steve’s ma had always steadfastly maintained that there wasn’t a drop of satyr blood in their family, satyrs being uncouth and vulgar. But then again, Steve’s ma had never seen the little bastard in a fight.Granted, these days Stevie could at least handle himself in a fight, but Bucky liked Steve’s face the way it was, thanks very much.And none of that left him any the wiser anyway... Cos how the hel did you court a faun?In other words, an Urban Fantasy AU in which Bucky and Steve stumble their way towards a relationship, through drinking, dining and headbutting assholes.





	Get Your Goat (or Wooing Fauns for Dummies)

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for Cap RBB 2019, based off the gorgeous art by [thelittleblackfox](https://thelittleblackfox.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks to Fox, [pendragonstar](https://pendragonstar.tumblr.com/) and [Shinynewpenny](https://shinynewpenny.tumblr.com/) for all their help betaing, giving suggestions and cheerleading! 
> 
> And a final thanks to [smilesguaranteed](https://smilesguaranteed.tumblr.com/) for listening to my rant when I got frustrated trying to write this!

There were a lot of things people _knew_ about fauns.

Bucky knew that much.

Satyrs too, but Steve’s ma had always steadfastly maintained that there wasn’t a drop of satyr blood in their family, satyrs being uncouth and vulgar. But then again, Steve’s ma had never seen the little bastard in a fight.

Course, little Stevie weren’t so little any more.

Bucky remembered when Steve had been less than a buck soaking wet. He’d been beautiful then, and perfect, and delicate and everything Bucky had ever dreamed about.

And then his body had caught up with his stupid, stupid heart.

First it was a growth spurt that had left him gangly, and nearly a half foot taller than Bucky (though with the antlers Bucky still had him beat), then a year of labouring at the docks had filled him out like a prize fighter.

Stevie had gotten huge!

He was still beautiful. Still perfect, because he was Steve. But now all Bucky could think about was what it would feel like to be wrapped up in those big arms.

Bucky didn’t know whether it was the satyr or the faun blood, but Stevie sure looked like he could seduce a traveller off the path.

Not that Bucky would need a whole lot of seducing.

Stevie on the other hand…

He knew Steve still had a whole heap of baggage from his ma on that count. Sarah had been a good woman, the very, very best, but she sure as hell had some strong ideas about the way Fae _should_ be, and that mostly boiled down to opposing anything that might possibly be considered Bacchanal.

Bucky reckoned that had a lot to do with her upbringing overseas, but Steve refused to be drawn out on that subject,  and Bucky’s ma had always said it weren't polite to talk about such things.

It was that, however, that left Bucky with a problem.

 _Everyone_ knew that fauns were stubborn as all hel.

Bucky weren’t gonna contest that one, not when Steve seemed like he wanted to batter down every scrap of injustice he came across with his own two horns.

Granted, these days Stevie could handle himself in a fight, but Bucky liked Steve’s face the way it was, thanks very much.

In any case, all that stubborn righteousness presented Bucky with his main problem.  

Combined with Steve's very strong feelings on what was right and proper, a direct approach, which in all honesty was Bucky’s go-to seduction technique, was more than likely to get Steve's hackles up.

And possibly earn Bucky a wallop to boot.

Nah, Stevie needed wooin’ a little. Romancing. Which again, in all honesty, was not Bucky’s strong suit.

It was Francis, the company’s Communications Warlock, who’d suggested dancing to Bucky. Course Francis was under the impression that they were talking about the sweet Selkie girl who worked behind the counter at the local cures and potions store.

Bucky knew that Mages had a lot to say about certain ‘Fae proclivities’, but he didn’t really want to fall into that stereotype, not after he’d managed to get work in the traditionally Mage dominated industry.

He weren’t gonna deny it if anyone asked, but he didn’t really want the extra attention. It'd been hard enough to convince his boss that he wouldn't be totally overwhelmed by anything with the slightest bit of technical magic involved.

Still, he wasn't gonna let any of those assholes scupper his chances with Stevie. Things were looking up, with the new job and all, both for him and Stevie. He could offer Steve proper stability now. Everything Steve deserved.

Provided he could successfully navigate Steve’s insecurities regarding anything to do with sex, relationships, and feelings in general.

But dancing! Dancing was something Bucky could definitely do.

It was romantic. Bucky could just imagine it now, dancing under fireflies and artificial moonlight. Pressing his face into Steve’s throat just to feel the closeness of him. His pulse thrumming under Bucky’s lips.

Bucky was absolutely certain that once the music had loosened him up, Steve would be able to read exactly what Bucky was trying to say with his body.  

But the setting had to be perfect.

Lucky for him, Bucky was a regular in at least half a dozen Fae bars, and it couldn’t be beyond him to scope out one that wouldn’t offend Steve’s sensibilities.

And well... he wasn’t exactly opposed to doing a little more research beforehand.

***

Steve frowned and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes.

He hadn’t got very far in his work, unable to find any inspiration, and now the light was fading. He shuffled the papers over on the table and started from the beginning again.

A couple of fashion plates. Dull. It was always hard for him to find any interest in clothing, that was Bucky’s domain.

A few commissions for the blue bibles. Stuff which was enough to make his ears turn pink and his cheeks heat up.

He only took them when they were real hard up and he definitely didn’t have any inspiration on that count currently.

He finally came back to the advertisements. A half dozen cheap full pages for the papers. One for Craven cigarettes which he was planning on sketching a nice Selkie for. A Brylcreem ad he’d already talked Buck into modelling for, not that he’d taken much persuading. One that called for a couple, high class, movie stars, that kinda thing.

He hated broad commissions like that. The agencies didn't know what they wanted, but still wanted him to pluck it out of their minds like he was some kind of seer.

Half the time he'd spend days on a sketch and get paid bupkis at the end of it.

He sighed, brushed a tuft of hair back behind his horn, and pulled out a scrap of paper to start on the design for Kleenoff Witches’ Pride Oven Cleaner. The brief was for a Mage couple, in front of a gleaming stove, the wife winking at the viewer, while the husband exclaimed at how fast she was at cleaning these days.

 _Only she knows_ , screamed the headline. _Magic bottled - don’t let witches keep all the secrets!_

He sighed again, irritating even himself, and started sketching.

It was fully dark before he heard Bucky on the stairs. Clomping up them like he always did.

Steve caught a flash of Bucky’s bright grin before he immediately smacked his antlers into the doorframe and staggered backwards.

Steve laughed. Obnoxiously, if he was honest.

Bucky still hadn’t got used to moving out of his folks’ place, with their high doorways.

Bucky ducked back under the door, giving him a wry look, and rubbing at the base of his antler. “Yeah, laugh it up, punk.”

“You’ll be alright, your head’s solid enough.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Bucky sauntered over, still grumbling good naturedly. He turned on the faucet and it gurgled for a couple of seconds before it started spitting out water.

Bucky bent over it, at an angle this time, so his antlers were well clear of the wall. He splashed a couple of handfuls into his face.

“You been at it all day?” He said, as he tugged a towel off the side.

“Err…”

It took Steve a couple of seconds to realise that had been a question, another couple before his brain clunked over enough to answer it. Too busy staring at the way the front of Bucky’s hair was wet and curling drips onto his forehead.

Dripping transparent circles into the front of his white shirt.

Bucky didn’t wait for him, just slumped down in the chair opposite and leaned over the mass of half-finished sketches. “Huh. Ain’t got far...”

And with that, Bucky’s ridiculous hair was forgotten. Steve threw his pencil down. “I know that! I know! Do you think I don’t know!”

“Alright!” Bucky put his hands up. “Don’t get all bent up about it!”

He stood up. “Come on! We’re goin dancin!”

Steve dropped his face into his hands. “Urgh, not again, Buck. I got too much to do-“

“Ah, ah! You ain’t bailing on me again!” Bucky was tugging at him. “I been plannin’ this all week.”

Steve sighed deeply. There was nothing more obnoxious than the kinda bars Bucky liked. They were cramped and hot and usually had a half blind fiddler in the corner. But Bucky liked ‘em because the drinks were cheap, and most of the clientele were guys he knew from work.

That, and he was there so often, the barmen didn’t mind if he spent the whole night dancing on only a couple of drinks.

The places Mages went tended to like having a couple of Fae around anyway. Thought it made them look a bit more bohemian.

“Bucky-“

“No, no, none of that!” Bucky dragged him to his hooves. “Get changed. I’m takin’ you someplace nice.”

Steve frowned, suspiciously. “How nice?”

Bucky shot him a grin. “Hey, that last place woulda been nice if you hadn’t’ve picked a fight with the biggest Skinwalker I ever seen.”

“He shouldn’ta tried stealin that Selkie girl’s coat!”

“I think she had it handled, pal,” Bucky said, drily.

That was true. She’d had a couple of pals with her and it turned out that when Selkies got pissed, they could be a truly terrifying sight.

But Steve had already opened his mouth to say that that was entirely beside the point, when he realised he’d been steered into the bedroom.

Clearly, his say was worth nothing in this.

He huffed good naturedly. “I’ve got no good clothes, Buck.”

“I’ll lend you somethin’.”

Steve gave him a look. “Really?”

***

“Bucky.”

“Be quiet, it’s fine.”

Steve huffed and tugged at his sleeve, as he sat down on the bed. “It’s tight.”

“Tight can be good.”

Steve was treated to the instant image of Bucky in the morning light, his undershirt stretching across the curve of his back.

“Right,” he squeaked out.

Bucky had spent an awfully long time getting Steve ready, trying out colours against the blond of his hair and the grey of his fur. He’d settled on a shirt speckled with pale blue flowers, which was definitely designed to drape loosely from the shoulders, rather than cling.

Bucky finished it with a flowing waterfall jacket, and a darker wool coat. But even then he spent an age, smoothing out the line of the jacket and running hands down his back.

Steve had had to expend a lot of energy not thinking about the way his cheeks had started heating up.

Bucky was taking a lot less time to get ready, and Steve was a little ashamed to admit that he let his eyes linger… though not ashamed enough to stop himself.

Bucky’s lithe tan skin, the stretch of muscle at the base of his spine, merging into soft dark fur, the same colour as his hair. Bucky’s shirt was billowing and a deep burgundy. It was gathered just above his hips and left a provocative strip of bare skin on display.

He was beautiful and Steve wanted desperately to get his mouth on him, on that strip of skin. He had to very quickly look away from eyeing the curve of muscle and fur up from his fetlocks to prevent that line of thought from getting ever more sinful.

He’d always wished that he was lean like that, but he was too stocky to be graceful.

Ah, who was he kiddin’? Even when he was a bag of bones and skin he’d been gangly and uncoordinated.

Cervids were just so handsome.

And Bucky was...

Well, Steve wasn’t sure exactly when jealousy had turned to want, but he suspected it was about the same time as he started waking up with his hand between his legs and a flush on his cheeks.

Watching Bucky crouch low, trying to get an angle where he could see the top of his antlers, Steve knew that he could never, ever know.

Steve could take rejection in the eyes of a hundred thousand dames, as long as he never had to see it in Bucky’s.

Bucky was fussing with his hair and what looked like half a pot of pomade. He had a cowlick that curled around the base of one of his antlers, sticking up at an odd angle no matter what he did.

Steve kinda liked it, but then, there was nothing he loved more than Bucky when he was sleep mussed and warm, before he had time to preen for the day. Before he’d had time to put his mask on for the rest of the world.

That time, early morning and late at night, that was when Steve could fool himself that Bucky was his.

***

“Bucky!”

Steve shoulda known. Even as they turned onto the road that this ‘real classy club’ was on, there were already dames callin’ Bucky’s name.

Steve glanced across to see Bucky’s grin, as he waved to the gaggle crowded outside of the door.

They were a group of Swans. Tall and slim and so immaculately turned out that they were practically glowing. Their feathered capelets reached almost down to the hems of their flared skirts. The red of their eyes brought out by thick makeup.

“Bucky,” one of the Swans threw her arms around him, “we were waiting!”

“Were we worth it?”

She threw her head back and laughed, hooked her hand into the crook of Bucky’s arm, tugging him forward. Leaving Steve trailing on behind, of course.

Inside was like nothing Steve had expected. The room was open, with a high ceiling and a large parquet dancefloor. There was a long bar along one wall. Some spindle legged tables for customers to rest at between dances.

But what really got Steve was the décor. Beautiful, floral, art nouveau lamps adorned the tables. There were patterned murals across the walls, each with an artfully half-naked figure reclining amidst foliage.

Steve almost turned to ask Bucky how he possibly found this place, when another shout went up over by the bar, and a group of well-built men called Bucky over.

Not Mages like his work friends this time, but Fae of all kinds.

It always amazed Steve that Bucky managed to be friends with literally everyone. People flocked to him.

Anyone else would become conceited, arrogant, but Bucky seemed cheerfully oblivious to the effect he had on everyone around him. Which, of course, made everyone love him all the more.

Even as he was thinking that, Bucky looked around and beckoned him over.

“Steve!” Bucky was grinning. “Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing.” Steve gestured around at the walls. “The art is just..”

He ran out of words.

Bucky’s face lit up. “Gregor, over there,” he gestured over to the barman, a tall Selkie who was looking a little frazzled, “his brother’s an artist. He calls in here sometimes. Nice guy, thought you two might get on.”

Bucky shrugged, an ‘oh gosh and golly’ gesture as if it was just some offhand thing, but Steve knew Buck musta been thinkin on this for a while. Their little neighbourhood was hardly filled to the brim with ‘creatives’, as Steve had been snootily called by his first boss when he’d given his notice.

It might be good to get to know someone like minded, maybe even find a group of them.

Steve loved his job, he really did, current frustrations notwithstanding, but hel did it get lonely workin’ alone every day. He did miss having colleagues, even just to vent to about unreasonable clients.

Steve smiled. “Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky grinned back. He grabbed Steve’s hand, his palm a little slick with sweat. “Come and dance!”

The thought made Steve feel a little bit sick, tripping over his hooves in front of everyone... In front of Bucky.

He tugged his hand free.

“Nah, I reckon I’ll be a bit of a disappointment.” He nodded over to the group of Swans, who were all giggling and looking in Bucky’s direction. “I think they’d rather wait for you.”

Some of the bright shine fell from Bucky’s eyes. “But… alright, but later though?”

He waited until Steve nodded.

Steve clapped him on the arm, he didn’t mean to be a killjoy. But bringing the mood down by clomping his big hooves all over some poor dame’s feet was not how he wanted to spend his evening. “Go on. Don’t keep ‘em waiting. I’ll get us some drinks.”

Bucky nodded, and by the time he’d turned back to the girls, Steve knew the smile would be back on his face.

He spent a while chatting to the barman, as he was getting their drinks. Gregor was friendly but gruff. With his broad frame, and thick accent, Steve imagined he didn’t have much difficulty dealing with any trouble that might find its way into the Stork Club and Dancehall.

He agreed to pass on introductions to his brother, and to let them know when he’d be in the Stork for the evening.

After that, Steve took a table by the wall and settled to watch as Bucky seemed to be dancing his way through the entire bar.

Aside from a couple of witches engaged in an intense conversation on the other side of the room, all the customers were Fae. Selkies and Swans mostly, some Dryads and Nymphs. A few Skinwalkers, dressed all in black, but as always, they tended to keep to themselves, forming a bawdy crowd by the bar.  

Closest to him were a couple of Selkie girls sharing a booth. They were sat close, clearly gossiping. Their eyes were heavily lined, lips painted dark, with their rich dark coats draped around their shoulders. They were pretty striking.

Maybe good models for the Craven cigarette ad.

Bucky was taking a turn now with the Swan he’d first greeted in the street. They made a hel of a pair. Both tall, slender and graceful, dancing in an old style that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a storybook. They seemed to float across the floor.

It always amazed Steve how Bucky could hold himself so lightly, when he was all long limbs and tall antlers.

Without thinking, Steve had pulled a napkin across the table. He fished a pencil out of his jacket pocket, and started sketching.

He was trying to get a feel of their movement, the way their bodies worked together.

They were the perfect couple.

Steve couldn’t ask for better models.

And even as the artist in him appreciated the aesthetic, a sliver of cool jealousy coiled around his guts.

If this _were_ a story, he’d stand up and go over there and…

The pencil clattered to the table in two jagged halves as Steve remembered that he wasn’t a teenager in a fucking rut.

The song was ending and Steve stuffed his sketch into his pocket, along with the broken pencil, before Bucky could come over to get his drink.

The Selkies were sat even closer, if anything. Steve frowned as they caught his eye. One leaning in to the other, and… oh!

Steve looked away quickly, trying desperately to lose the image of their faltering glamour as they mouthed at each other. He could feel his cheeks heating up, and was certain, absolutely certain, that the two Selkies had given up their necking and were now watching him.

Bucky was chatting on the floor while the band got themselves settled again. A male Swan had wandered across, presumably to cut in, and the three were sharing a few words. His capelet was cut short, easily showing off the curve of his slender hips.

Steve wanted to headbutt him in the back.

Even as Steve watched, the Swan laughed obnoxiously, and his hand dropped to rest gently against Bucky’s lower back.

And any doubt Steve had about exactly what kinda Fae bar this was flitted away. As did any question as to whether Bucky knew it.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and met his eye across the room.

Steve looked away. Awkward and jealous and far too hot in the room that was suddenly stifling.

The music started up again, and Bucky made his way over. Steve hated the way even his ears were heating up. He was sure he was bright red.

“Awww, thanks, Stevie.” Bucky said as he slumped heavily into his seat, taking a quick swig of his drink. “You having a good night?”

“Yeah,” Steve’s voice had jumped up a pitch, knowing that this was _that_ kinda Fae bar, and Bucky had brought him here, and Bucky hadn’t minded that Swan’s hand on him.

Of course Steve knew it happened.

You couldn’t grow up in Brooklyn without hearing about the kinda tricks elves pulled, or seein’ a couple of bulls pressed deep into each other in one of the backstreets.

But Bucky never seemed…  Well, Steve’d always thought he edged more on the Mage side with all that.

Clearly Steve’s judgement was absolute bullshit.

Course, if Bucky was more open to all of that… that left Steve in a bit of a predicament.

Since he’d been about fourteen, he’d wanted to bury himself into Bucky and never ever move. Duinn, he’d dreamt about him, he’d…

Steve didn’t think he could get any hotter.

He almost jumped out of his skin as Bucky leaned in close. “Sure you don’t wanna dance, Stevie?”

Steve was pretty sure his heart might give out.

He shook his head, instantly realising that he was an absolute fucking idiot. Bucky was looking at him earnestly, and Steve couldn’t do anything but shake his head again.

The thought of dancing, something he wasn't exactly winning any medals for at the best of times, in front of all these people…

No, absolutely not. He couldn't.

If he spreadeagled himself in front of Bucky, he was pretty certain he was going to have to change his name and emigrate.

And the thought of having anyone's hands on him, _Bucky's_ hands on him… Well, that made him heat up in a whole different, but equally embarrassing, way.

Steve forced a smile and Bucky frowned for half a second, but then his face cleared. “I’ll get us some more drinks.”

As Bucky walked away, in that billowing perfect shirt, with his perfect hair, curled around his perfect, perfect antlers, Steve realised he might be in a lot of trouble.

He didn’t notice the Selkies coming over. Didn’t notice one of them leaning over his shoulder.

“Darling,” she smelt of a mixture of seaweed and cheap cosmetics, “you look like Lancelot waiting for Guinevere. For Duinn’s sake, say something,” she stood up, her long clawed fingers lingering on his shoulder, “you’re making Nereida’s heart ache.”

With that she joined Nereida and Steve was left staring after them, wondering what on earth he was going to do.

***

It wasn’t going well. Why in Duinn’s name hadn’t he just come clean about wanting a dance?

He’d hoped he might be able to coax Steve into it if Steve saw him goin’ around with other people, stoke up a bit of that fire Stevie seemed to have in his gut about every damn thing but Bucky.

Steve was barely even looking at him, seemed bored if anything, Bucky had seen him sketching when he’d thought no one was looking.

And now Bucky’d got that asshole Anthony hangin’ around and puttin’ his hands all over him. Again.

As if he was that damn easy!

Bucky knocked back a bourbon shooter. Caught Gregor’s eye and motioned for another.

He should just say something.

He had to do it tonight.

Had to.

There was no way in hel he was spendin’ another night a whole room and a hundred goddamn miles away from Stevie.

Gregor leaned over the bar as he slid his drink over. “Date not goin’ so well, hot shot?”

Bucky smiled ruefully. “Think it’s my lines?”

He could see Gregor’s eyes running up and down Steve’s body. “You sure the kid’s _fae_ Fae?”

Even as Bucky was nodding, he could feel himself wavering. Maybe Stevie had caught on about the bar. Maybe he didn’t like it. Maybe he hadn’t realised Bucky was Fae like _that…_

Shit. Maybe Bucky had ruined everything. Maybe he’d really fucked this up.

He slugged back the second drink and nodded to his glass. “Keep em comin’. Pour one out for Eros as well.”

Gregor raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Bucky smiled. “And one of barman’s choice.”

Gregor grinned and took a swig outta the bottle. “Eros bless you.”

***

Bucky was drunk.

Steve’d known that after the first hour or so.

So did everyone else.

The offers of dances had started drying up, and the patrons had begun avoiding their side of the room.

It was when Gregor had come over to collect glasses, leaning down to Steve and saying “think it’s time you took your boy home”, that Steve realised that Bucky was nodding off in his seat.

He thanked Gregor and paid their tab.

Then he patted Bucky’s arm. “Come on, bud. Home time.”

Bucky blinked and then grinned groggily. “Stevie! Let’s dance!”

“Na ah, come on, let’s go home.”

Bucky’s face fell. “You’re supposed to dance with me.”

Steve’s heart fluttered, because Bucky had said ‘with me’, but he pushed the thought away. Bucky was drunk. He could’ve meant anything.

Still Steve couldn’t quite silence the hope that was screaming at the back of his brain. “Next time, buddy.”

Bucky, at least, looked mollified, and consented to stand up and have his coat dragged around his shoulders.

When they got outside, rain was falling in a thin mist and Steve regretted letting Bucky dress them both in such light clothes so early in the spring. He pulled his coat tighter around him, and stepped out into the rain.

At least, they were only about ten minutes from home.

Steve was only relieved for about thirty seconds though, because there was a sudden yell of surprise and a thud.

Bucky was on the ground, legs splayed out and a look of bemused indignation on his face. It was only a second before Bucky’s drunken brain caught up with what had happened and he started openly laughing.

“Goddamnit, Buck.”

Bucky looked beautiful even sprawled across the paving. He had his head thrown back so far, he was nearly knocking the back of his antlers on the ground.

Steve could feel a grin start to tug at his own cheeks.

“Come here.” Steve offered his hand and pulled Bucky up. His hooves skidded and slipped once again and he had to throw his arms around Steve for support.  

“It's not fair! How come you aren’t-?”

He was cut off again as one of his hooves slid away from him. He laughed, and nearly brained Steve in the head with the side of his antlers.

Steve hefted an arm around his waist. “It's not that slippery.”

“Yeah, it is! It’s like goddamn glass!”

Bucky was in serious danger of dragging Steve down with him.

“Come on, pal.”

Steve took a second to steady them, dragging Bucky's arm over his shoulder and pulling him close against his side.

He could feel the warmth of Bucky’s fur against his own.

Bucky smelt of pomade, and sweat from dancing, clinging to his hair, and it was sending Steve’s heart into flutters again.

This feeling, Bucky’s body against his own, it was what art was made of. He could spend decades trying to capture it on paper.

They managed to stagger their way on home and up the steps to their tenement. At least Bucky was able to keep his feet as soon as they were inside. He didn't shift though, still clinging to Steve.

Steve toed the door open and dragged Bucky over to the bedroom.

“There you go, pal.” He deposited him lightly onto his bed.

“Aww, thanks, Stevie!” Bucky was grinning at him. His eyes blown dark. His shirt had pulled down a little from his shoulder, exposing a flash of skin.

Steve realised abruptly that he was leaning close over Bucky’s body. Close enough that he would only need to dip his head and he could press his lips onto Bucky’s skin.

Bucky’s eyes were running over his face. “Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey…” Steve swallowed sharply. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”

He was up and away before he could see Bucky’s expression change, and it took him a minute of standing in the kitchen before he managed to get himself together and look for a glass.

He was so flustered that he forgot to wait the couple of seconds it took for the water to run clear from the faucet, and he had to flush the glass out a few times before filling it.

Because Bucky wanted him.

Wanted _him_.

There was absolutely no hedging in Bucky’s expression.

He’d taken’ them to a _Fae_ bar.

He’d said he’d wanted them to dance.

Bucky _wanted_ him, and his heart was thudding a little dance in his chest at the thought. It felt a little surreal, standing tongue tied in the dark in his own goddamn kitchen.

Because Bucky Barnes wanted him.

And he was in bed in the next goddamn room.

Duinn, get it together, Rogers.

By the time Steve returned to the bedroom, Bucky was dozing. His chest rising and falling evenly.

Steve was almost tempted to leave him there. To just watch him sleep.

Then he realised that not only was that edging into the realm of creepy, but there was a distinct likelihood of Bucky being ill in the night if he didn’t get any water into him.

And that would definitely put a dampener onto Steve’s good mood.

“Pal,” Steve nudged his shoulder gently, “gotta drink somethin’ before you sleep.”

“Mmmm.”

“Yeah, mmm. So sit up.”

Bucky manoeuvred himself up with a flail of limbs, squinting at him. “Thanks, Stevie.”

He downed the glass in one and handed it back.

Steve hovered for a second and then thought fuck it. He sat heavily on the side of the bed.

“Did you.. mean what you said in the bar? About dancin’?”

Bucky flopped back onto the bed with a huff. “D’ncin’?”

“Yeah.” Steve swallowed again. In for a penny... “Yeah, dancin’ with me.”

“Course I did.”

Steve glanced over and met Bucky’s dark, dark eyes. His hair was still slick with pomade, but it had started to fall forward over his forehead. His lips were bitten a little, slightly dry with raw skin.

Steve wondered if they’d be rough if he ran a finger over them. If he pressed them to his own.

“I’m not a good dancer,” Steve heard himself say, distantly.

Bucky was smiling. “Don’t know ‘bout that. ‘N I’m a good teacher.”

“Are ya?”

“Mmmhmm,” Bucky leaned up on his elbows, “ya shoulda seen Jemima dance before.”

“Jemima?”

“The Swan.”

Steve found he was leaning down a little. “Oh yeah? That was all you, was it?”

“Well, you know, mighta been a bit of natural talent there.”

Steve snorted. And he was definitely feelin’ the alcohol himself, because without any say so from his brain at all he said, “You got anything else to teach me?”

Bucky licked his lips. “I’ll say. Reckon I can show ya some things.”

“Yeah?”

“Y’h.”

Steve had his hand on the mattress next to Bucky’s head. He could feel the warmth of Bucky’s fur all down the side of his flank.

Duinn, he thought desperately, this is it.

This was really the moment. Right now.

“You got some big words, Buck. You gonna follow through?”

“D’mn straigh’.”

Bucky’s eyes had fluttered closed, and Steve was so close he could smell the drink on his breath. “Oh, Buck,” he breathed.

There was no response.

Steve sat back. “Bucky?”

Bucky snuffled a little, and shifted his head to get settled more neatly on his antlers.

“Bucky,” Steve said again, not at all quietly.

Nothing.

Steve threw himself back against the foot of the bed with a huff. “Goddamnit.”

***

Bucky’s mouth felt like the inside of a washer witch’s cauldron when he woke up, and he dragged the wool blanket over his face before he even opened his eyes.

He didn’t need to remember last night (and frankly he wished he didn’t), to know that he’d made an ass of himself.

Again.

“You feelin’ alrigh’, pal?”

There was a laugh in Steve’s voice that Bucky would quite like to punch off his face.

“Nngh.”

“Shall I make you somethin’?”

“Nngh.”

Bucky could hear Steve laughing.

“I’ll make you some of my ma’s ginger tea.”

Bucky just turned his head into the pillow.

He couldn’t remember a whole lot after fallin’ on his ass in the street. He remembered Steve bringing him some water.

Duinn, he wished he hadn’t had that last drink. He’d just wanted a bit of courage.

What must Steve think?

No one liked an old souse.

Who the hel would wanna date one?

He wanted to sink into the mattress.

“Buck?”

He felt Steve’s hand on his shoulder and automatically pressed further into the bed. He wasn’t quite ready to meet Steve’s eye just yet.

There was a moment of warmth as Steve left his hand where it was.

“I’ll just put your tea on the side for when you’re ready for it.”

Bucky heard the slight clink of china on wood and then Steve moving quietly around the tenement. After a few minutes the front door opened and closed again.

Bucky waited until he was sure he was gone to lift himself gingerly up and pick up the tea, letting it warm up his fingers.

He’d have to try again.

No drink next time… well, maybe one or two just to loosen him up a little.

But dinner. Dinner was a better choice. They could talk.

Steve’d always said he had a smart mouth, and he could listen to Stevie chatter on for hours on end.

He took a sip of tea and sent a prayer of thanks to wherever Steve’s ma was resting.

When Steve talked, really talked, he would get this serious look on his face, where his brows would draw in and his mouth would get all tense.

Sometimes he’d catch Bucky out with a joke that he played absolutely straight. Then he’d get this edge of a smirk across his lips, and Bucky’s whole body would light up with warmth.

He wished he hadn’t blown it last night.

Wished Stevie hadn’t gone out.

Could use one of his smirks about now.

He drank his tea in silence.

***

Ok, so this was definitely a date.

As in a _Date_. Capital D.

Bucky had asked him on a date.

Steve wanted to hyperventilate a little at the thought, but it wasn’t so bad. After all, he was pretty sure Bucky wasn’t going to be put off by an evening in his company. They were already living together after all, and Steve wasn’t exactly an expert in all things romance but he was pretty sure that usually came a little later in proceedings.

But still, he wanted to make a good impression. A ‘yes, I see what you’re doin’ and I am very much in favour’ impression.

He’d even bought a new shirt.

One that actually fit him… mostly.

Well, its seams were still a little strained, and the expression on the Brownie tailor’s face when he’d scanned over the breadth of Steve’s shoulders was best described as panicked, but it hung better than anything he might’ve borrowed from Bucky.

He hadn’t quite been brave enough to try the short cuts that Bucky had recently taken to, so it draped loosely over his hips, and he’d played it safe by sticking to blue. But Bucky liked blue, and Steve even, cautiously, thought he might look good… well, decent, at least.

They were going to meet at a restaurant.

An actual restaurant.

It was in the Fae quarter, so they didn’t have to worry about encountering any proselytising Mages, and given it had been Bucky’s choice Steve seriously doubted it would be particularly high class. But it was still probably the fanciest place Steve had ever been to, and no way in hel was he gonna show Bucky up.  

When he arrived, it wasn’t hard to spot Bucky. There weren’t many cervids in Brooklyn, hence the school nickname which Bucky had taken to with absolute delight, and the antlers were hard to miss.

He’d taken a central table because of course he had.

Bucky had never heard of subtlety in his life.

Steve nodded to the waiter, and headed over, trying to look like he actually belonged there.

As predicted, Bucky hadn’t chosen a place that could be considered sophisticated. The lighting was low, the drinks were plentiful and there was still a band on a low stage over at the far side of the room, because Duinn forbid Bucky could go a day without having some kind of music deafening him.

But there were fireflies suspended in cages above the tables, presumably enchanted, and what looked like living foliage growing out of the walls.

Steve would place bets that this place was Dryad owned.

Steve was tempted to let his hand trail across Bucky’s back as he skirted the table, but he very properly kept his hands to himself. “Hey, pal.”

“Steve!”

Bucky’s face lit up, and Steve felt that glow in his chest again knowing that Bucky wanted him.

They hadn’t talked about the other night. Steve could feel his face heating up just thinking about how wanton it made him feel, the memory of being so close to Bucky’s skin, as his mother’s diatribes about satyrs and sin came back to him.  

But Steve couldn’t find the will to berate himself too much. Not when the lighting cast the lines of Bucky’s face in such pretty shadow.

Bucky was just looking at him, before he blinked rapidly and fumbled with the menu. “I… err… I ordered the elderberry wine… I didn’t-”

“That’s fine.”

“Right.”

The band took that moment to start up playing an overly enthusiastic Elfish folk song. The glare Bucky shot them over Steve’s shoulder could’ve stripped paint. And Steve suddenly couldn't help but start laughing.

Bucky eyed him for a second before he started smirking too, and the tension was broken.

“Sorry.” Bucky dragged a hand back through his hair, which was probably meant to flatten it down, but only made the cowlick leap up to curl loosely around his left antler. “I guess I’m just a bit het up.”

“Thought you were supposed to be the smooth one?”

“Yeah, well, I guess I just never cared if they liked me back before.”

Steve opened his mouth with a smart answer, but it felt wrong with the hint of sincerity colouring Bucky’s tone.

He couldn’t think of another response.

Thankfully, the waiter took that moment to bring over their drinks, though he took an interminably long time opening the bottle and displaying it to them in the crook of his arm, as if the fluidly written Elfish meant a fuckin’ thing to either of them.

Steve wanted to stand up and shake him by the trailing ivy that was braided into his hair and clothes. He was sure that Bucky’s fixed smile looked an awful lot more real than his.

When the wine was poured and offered to him, he downed it to get rid of the guy as quickly as possible.

This was a _mistake_.

He got a half-second’s warning before his lungs felt like they were on fire and his vision shorted out into technicolour swirls.

“It’s fine,” Steve sputtered, trying to sound like his tongue wasn’t about to burn out of his head.

By the time his vision cleared, the waiter was gone and Bucky was looking at him with an odd mix of amusement and concern.

“Sorry, I forgot Elf wine tends to have a kick to it. Shoulda warned ya.”

Bucky didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“‘S fine,” Steve rasped again.

He reached for the jug of water that had appeared on their table sometime while his brains had been pouring out of his ears. He downed a tumbler of it and then poured a liberal amount into the glass of wine, which now appeared to be smoking ever so slightly.

Bucky added the barest drop to his own, which made Steve feel like he was possibly the least slick person in the history of time.

“What do you want to eat?” Bucky was gazing over the menu with what looked like mild interest, though Steve was certain he’d already picked out what he wanted while he was waiting for Steve to find the restaurant.

“Errr…”

Steve cast about for his own menu, discarded, of course, beneath the massive carafe of water. When he managed to extricate it, he was really none the wiser about what he actually wanted to eat. The menu contained an array of things he’d never heard of, mixed with things he wasn’t sure were actual food… unless you were a Dryad, of course.

Oak root souffle.

Were oak roots even edible? Wait, how the hell did you make something that was essentially wood into a souffle?

And the waiter took that moment to return. Because, sure, of course, why would he not?

The sheer panic on his face must have shown because the waiter took one look at him, and discreetly leaned over to flick to the back page of the menu, which thankfully, listed options that he had at least heard of.

“Leek and mushroom pie.”

Bucky pointed at the menu decisively, and when the waiter turned to him, Steve just nodded blankly. “Same.”

There was a definite grin edging around Bucky’s lips as the waiter walked away.

“Oh, shut up!” Steve couldn’t help but start smiling back. “What’s with this place anyway?”

“It’s rustic!”

“Uh huh.”

Steve watched as a different waiter wandered by carrying what looked to be half a tree sticking out of a bowl of purple soup. There was probably a reason Dryads and other Elves weren’t considered to have the height of haute cuisine.

The food, when it came, was inoffensive. It was clear that Bucky had ordered off the part of the menu designed for people who did not have natural immunity to the fungi and fauna of central Europe.

Actually, it was pretty good… overall.

Really, Steve’s mood was definitely improving.

“How are the adverts going?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of indeterminate brown leaves.

Steve pulled a face. “I got paid for Kleenoff, and that’s about it. I haven’t finished anything else.”

He didn’t say ‘I’ve been too distracted thinking about the way you look when you’re sleepin’ because not only was that embarrassing, it was also worryingly stalker-y.

“Mmm,” Bucky nodded, then shrugged, “guess they don’t pay well anyway. You hear anything of anything else?”

“Just a whole heap of blue commissions, and I’m not exactly a master at that kinda thing.”

Bucky all of a sudden had a wicked smirk. “I can help you out with inspiration, if you like.”

Steve inhaled a sprig of thyme. Bucky was still laughing as he leaned across to thump him on the back.

“We’re in public!” Steve hissed.

Bucky shrugged. “Have you heard the song they’re playing?”

Steve had not, and as he finally tuned in to the lyrics, he could feel his ears going bright red once again.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky gave a mock salute, “I’ll protect your honour.”

“Stop,” Steve snapped, because really it was too much. Steve could feel the flush creeping down his chest, signalling to the whole place just how flustered and embarrassed he was.

And then he instantly wished he could take it back, because for the first time the joking slid off Bucky’s face as he looked down at his plate. “Sorry.”

“No. I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Buck-”

“Is everything alright with your meal?”

“Yes! It’s fine,” Steve snapped at the waiter.

“It’s great, thanks,” Bucky said, and smiled like a movie star.

Steve felt like a dick.

“I’m sorry, alright.” Steve fixed his eyes on the waiter’s retreating back. “You know I’m no good at this.”

“S’alright.”

“Buck-”

“You seen that?” Bucky cut him off and nodded over at a couple seated a few tables away.

One was a Dryad, a tall man, wearing all grey, hair braided tight with leaves. The other looked like he might be a Mage, though he was dressed in loose Fae fashion.

The Dryad was scowling, while the Mage stared steadfastly into his meal. His jaw was tight.

Steve leaned across the table. “They arguin’?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Bucky said darkly.

Even as he asked, Steve heard the Dryad raise his voice. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Asshole,” Bucky said under his breath.

Steve had to crane his neck backwards to get a proper look.

He felt Bucky’s hand on his. “Don’t.”

But Steve’d turned around just in time to see the Dryad reach across and wrench his partner’s wrist towards him. The table rattled as the Mage caught himself with his free hand.

“Do you like wasting my money? Huh?”

Steve was already on his feet. He could hear Bucky saying his name, but he pushed it to the back of his consciousness without really noticing.

The Mage tugged his hand back, and turned saying something that Steve couldn't catch.

He didn’t really need to.

Steve squeezed his way through the other diners. “Excuse me.”

“Steve!”

The Dryad scowled at him. “What?”

“Do you always talk to your friend like that?”

The Dryad sat back with a smirk. “My friend?”

Steve knew he was scowling. “Well, I wouldn’t call him your fella, would you? Not with you pullin’ him about like that.”

The grin dropped from the Dryad’s face. “What’s it got to do with you?”

“Leave it, Garrick.”

Garrick didn’t spare his date a second glance. “I asked if you had somethin’ to say.”

Steve very nearly dragged him out of his chair. “Yeah. Yeah, I got somethin’ to say.”

“Stevie, come on.”

Bucky’s hand closed around his arm and he felt himself get tugged a step backwards. He looked back and caught a glimpse of Bucky’s face. An expression he couldn't quite read.

It was enough to distract him for the instant that Garrick apparently decided he’d had enough, and he was already reeling sideways when his brain registered the blow.

He heard Bucky shout “Hey!”

Steve’s jaw was aching, his brain rattling a little inside his skull, but Bucky was in between them. Between him and the Dryad. He had his hands fisted into the front of the guy’s shirt, pushing him back. “Enough, alright! Enough!”

The Dryad lifted his fist and…

That… that son of a bitch punched Buck!

Bucky stumbled to the side and Steve barrelled forward.

He thudded into the guy with more force than finesse. It was more his face than his head that connected with the guy’s chest, and with the force of his momentum he couldn’t keep his feet.

They went down in a scrabble of limbs.

Dimly, Steve knew that this wasn’t the epic fight it felt like. Definitely more on the schoolyard side of things.

He could feel hands tugging at his shirt, but he didn’t care. This son of a bitch upset his date. He’d tried to humiliate him.

And then he’d hit Bucky!

Steve was gonna make damn sure he knew exactly what happened to bullies.

The feel of fabric under his hands vanished, and there was a fuzzy, vibrating warmth over his skin for a moment, then he found he was flat on his back.

He scrambled to sit up and saw that he was about six feet away from the Dryad, who was looking equally confused.

They’d scattered a lot of tables and chairs in their wake, and the Mage had backed away from where he’d been sat. He was stood with his hand outstretched and his eyes wide.

He glanced around the room, and quickly realised just how many people were staring at them. He shot one last look at Steve, and then waved his hands in a quick flourish, disappearing into a burgundy flash, leaving his date, conspicuously, on the floor.

Steve didn’t blame him.

A Mage, alone in the Fae part of town. After a fight, as well. Whatever the situation in the rest of the city, in here he was definitely outnumbered. Steve didn’t blame him for getting out of there.

Shit, actually, a lot of people _were_ looking at them.  

Bucky appeared from somewhere behind him and dragged him to his feet. “You alright?”

“Yeah.”

There was a red mark underneath Bucky’s lip, but other than that he seemed okay. Steve opened his mouth to ask, but he didn’t get any further.

Someone across the room shouted “The filth’s here!” and Bucky’s face dropped. “Time to go.”

Bucky grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the back of the room.

They evidently weren’t the only ones with that idea. At least half the patrons of the restaurant were slipping out of back entrances and alleys. The authorities didn’t look favourably on the Fae at the best of times, and this deep into the Fae quarter, Steve would be surprised if there weren’t at least a few purveyors of unlicensed substances amongst the customers.

For cultural purposes, obviously.

But it wasn’t like _they’d_ done anythin’ like that.

As soon as they made it into the backstreet, Bucky broke into a run, still clutching at Steve’s wrist. He didn’t stop until they reached a street where they could crouch behind a fire escape and catch their breath.

“What the hel was that about?” Steve was trying to catch his breath around the words, and sounded a little like he was choking. “ _We_ didn’t do anythin’!”

Bucky shot him a look. “Yeah, sure. Besides,” he shifted a little on his haunches, “when has that mattered? I ain’t losin’ my job because someone gets a little feisty with the cops and they decide to cuff everybody.”

Steve could concede that point.

There was a heavy silence between them that had nothin’ to do with them hiding.

“I’m sorry, okay.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I couldn’t very well just leave it.”

“Sure.”

Steve huffed, but couldn’t really come up with a response. “Buck-”

“Look, not everything has to be a fight.”

“I wasn’t gonna ignore it!”

“And I was?” Bucky looked at him sharply. Then he sighed and closed his eyes. “You don’t gotta ram headfirst into every problem, alright? A quiet word’s all it needed, once that dumb bastard was in the can. You think that Mage wanted any more attention drawn to him? You think he wanted a scene made?”

“Bucky…”

“And who d’ya think’s gonna get it later, Stevie, huh? Now that asshole’s got somethin’ to prove? Ain’t gonna be you and me, I can promise you that.”

“I…” Steve sat back on his heels. “I didn’t think of that.”

“I know.”

Steve kinda felt a little bit sick. “You think he’ll be okay?”

“He scrammed outta there pretty quick, he’ll be alright. Hopefully it'll give him a reason to leave.”

Steve nodded, looked at the floor. He really hadn't thought about it.

"Quit that puppy look alright, you were trying to do the right thing."

“I’m sorry.”

"I know, pal. Me too. I'm sorry I didn't get a swing in before he hit ya. Sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. I guess I got a thick skull too."

Bucky smiled, and shifted slightly on his heels.

“Be quiet, alright? Don’t wanna get caught on top of everythin’.” He shot a smirk across at Steve. “We didn’t pay in there, ya know?”

Steve felt a guilty swell in his gut. “I’ll go settle up tomorrow, I promise.”

“I know, pal.” Bucky sighed, real deep. Then met his eyes, deep and earnest. “You’re a big, dumb idiot. You know that?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Bucky’s lips were suddenly on his.

It wasn’t a good kiss. Even Steve’s limited experience could tell him that.

It was snatched, and rushed, and Bucky had caught him by surprise. They missed each other and never really quite got into sync.

It was Steve who pulled back, trying to get away from the awkward tangle of tongues.

Bucky looked away quickly.

“Buck?”

Steve tried to inch closer, to try and return it now that he’d got his wits about him, but Bucky turned away.

“Come on,” he said. “Reckon we’re clear now.”

He didn’t give Steve a chance to reply. Just stood up and walked out of the alley, heading back towards their apartment.

***

Well, that could’ve gone better.

Damn Steve and his inability to let a single thing go ever!

Of course, Bucky couldn't help but admit that it was a little sexy, the way Steve had gone absolutely batshit as soon as that bastard had laid a finger on him.

Bucky had a slightly sore mouth the next morning, but that was about it.

It definitely wasn’t worth literally ramming the guy in the chest over, but Bucky, well, it’d be a lie if he said he hadn’t replayed it over in his head a couple of times as he was getting off to sleep.

With Steve getting a little more heroic and the villain getting a little more snivelling every time.

What it absolutely wasn’t worth was the mournful look Steve was sporting when he woke up the next morning.

He looked like a guilty puppy, and it wasn’t fair.

Bucky didn’t even get a chance to say anything, because while he was in the restroom, Steve took the opportunity to slip out, leaving a beautifully flowery note, full of apologies, saying that he’d gone to sheepishly make amends at the restaurant.

Now Bucky wasn’t stupid.

It was clear that Steve wanted him, even if his ego was more than a little bruised that Stevie had practically recoiled when he’d kissed him.

But Steve wasn’t exactly experienced with all of this, and Bucky wasn’t so good with words.

But if he couldn’t say it with his body, or by showering Steve with good food, ambient lighting and suggestive music, then he was goin’ to have to get his head out of his ass.

He thought briefly about just sprawling naked on Steve’s bed and waiting for nature to take its course, but to be honest Steve was as likely to sprint in the opposite direction as to jump his bones.

He needed something a little more... sentimental.

Bucky needed help, and he knew precisely where to look for it.

***

Becca opened the door with a grin. “Jimmy! Thought we weren’t seein’ ya til the weekend for Imbolc?”

“I need your help, Bec.”

Becca flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Since when is that not true?” She stepped back, hooves making a clipped noise on the floorboards. “Come on then, Jimmy. Fill me in.”

She was wearing a long rag style skirt, which fell to just above her fetlock.

Bucky wondered whether their ma had finally given in to these ‘modern Fae fashions’, or if her and Becca were still at an impasse.

“So,” Becca settled herself on the couch, crossing her hooves, “what does my big brother need?”

Bucky sat next to her. “What do you know about fauns?”

Becca raised an eyebrow. “What’s Steve done now?”

“Nothing!” Bucky wished he sounded more convincing.

Becca leaned back on her elbows. “Right.”

The silence hung there for a second.

“Look, are you gonna help or not?”

“Of course,” Becca said easily. “So what _hasn’t_ Steve done now?”

Bucky scowled. “Becca.”

Becca laughed. “Ok, I’m sorry. So you finally gonna make your move?”

“Already made it... well, kinda...”

Becca snorted loudly. “Come on, Steve’s crazy about you! How could you blow it?”

“I didn’t blow…” Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, can we just get on to the part where you help me? How the fuck do you start courtin’ a faun?”

“Ten leaves of hemlock? That’s what the bean feasa say. And who the hell says courtin’ anymore?”

“I’m not tryin’ to witch him, Bec! What is this? Salem?”

“You’re the one who said ‘courtin’.”

“Bec!”

Becca’s lip had turned upwards, and Bucky was under no illusions that he was bein’ fucked with.

“I’m sorry.” Becca looked anything but. “What’s the problem?”

“I gotta… gotta make a gesture. Let him know that everything’s alright, you know.”

Becca frowned. “Like an apology?”

“No! Maybe. Like, I don’t know, like an overture.” He was definitely gesturing too much. “Romantic shit, you know!”

“Right… And just talking to him would be out of the question?”

“Bec!”

“Ok,” Becca held up her hands, “but on record, I think you’re overthinkin’ this.”

“Noted.”

“Hmm.” Becca tapped her chin in an obnoxious display of faux deep thought. “What about flowers?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. She’d clearly been sitting on that one for a while. “Flowers?”

Becca shrugged. “You wanted romance. Steve looks like the kinda guy who would appreciate it. And it’s Fae tradition.”

“Ok, fine. Lay it on me.”

In fairness, it wasn’t a bad idea. Stevie was an artist. Flowers were pretty. It was… Ah fuck it, it was worth a shot.

“Well, of course you gotta have green carnations.”

“Of course.”

Becca had already got up to pull out their ma’s tattered encyclopaedia. “Orange blossom. Blue hyacinths. Oh! And ambrosia!”

“Bec, I don’t know what any of these are.”

Becca brushed her hair behind her antler, and settled back on the couch with the book on her knee. “Go get a pen.”

***

 

Steve was enjoying the first really warm day of spring when he noticed Bucky behaving very oddly.

He was inside the Municipal Fae Park, crouched down, and staring at a bunch of shrubs like he had a personal grudge against them. He seemed to be frowning between them and a crumpled scrap of paper in his hand.

Steve wandered up to the railings.

“Buck?”

Bucky jumped like a startled cat and fell back in an undignified heap on the ground. Hooves flailing up in the air. Steve was laughing even before he caught the indignant look on Bucky’s face.

“Sorry.”

“Sure you are,” Bucky grumbled, as he pushed himself up.

“What ya doin?”

Bucky flinched, like he couldn’t decide whether to stuff the scrap of paper in his pocket. “I’m lookin’ for flowers…”

“Flowers?”

“Yeah.” Bucky looked distinctly shifty. “For Becca.”

Steve frowned. “You’re lookin’ for flowers for Becca?”

Bucky hesitated. “Yeah,” he held up the paper and gave it a little shake, “she gave me a list, but… well, I don’t know shit about flowers.”

“Riiight…”

Bucky looked at the ground again. He looked so pathetically miserable that Steve couldn’t help but ask. “Do you want a hand?”

Bucky’s head snapped up. “Errr… yeah?”

Steve pretended that that response had been a little more enthusiastic.

“Right.”

He wedged his hoof in between the railings and hefted himself upwards.

“Don’t fall!”

“Don’t have kittens. I ain’t gonna fall.”

His balance had evened out a whole lot since the recurrent ear infections of his childhood had cleared up. It irked him sometimes that Bucky still seemed to think he was made of glass, but then he’d get a look at the worry on Bucky’s face, and his brain would go wobbly for a second.

He navigated the railings easily, and jumped off the top to land in the grass.

“Let’s see this list then.”

Bucky hesitated again, and then handed him the crumpled up paper.

Steve scanned down it, trying to parse out Bucky’s blocky handwriting. Next to some of the names there were little smudged sketches and notes, where Becca had evidently tried to give Bucky some clues about what these plants looked like. Mostly things like ‘white, looks like star’ and ‘big, trumpet shaped’.

With the best will in the world, Bucky could barely tell a rose from a tulip. How Becca thought he would find all these was a mystery.

Why Becca _wanted_ them was a mystery.

Still, looking at them, they all seemed to be reasonably uncomplicated.

The Park had been built fifty years ago, after pressure groups had campaigned to make modern cities more hospitable for Fae residents. A hundred acres of flower groves and wooded copses. They weren’t in much of an order, granted, but Steve had spent an awful lot of his youth finding places to hide out amongst the trees. He was pretty sure he had a reasonable idea where most of the plants on the list liked to grow.

When he looked up, Bucky was watching him closely, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows.

Steve swallowed sharply. “Why don’t we start with the anemone? They’re pretty easy to recognise.”

***

The further down the list they got, the more Steve started to recognise a pattern. At first, it hadn’t brought anything to mind, after all it’d been years since he’d sat by his mother’s chair as she’d embroidered charms into various cousins’ wedding gowns. But then a couple had started to jump out at him.

Primrose for eternal love. Anemone. Bellflower.

He couldn’t remember the exact meanings, but he got the gist.

Others, pear blossoms and orange tulips, were for friendship and deep connection. Daffodils and toadflax begging for an answer, a return of affection.

He tried to ignore it. He really did. It wasn’t anything to do with him. Nothing at all. What Becca did was her business.

And well, it wasn’t Bucky’s either, although he knew that Bucky wouldn’t quite see it that way. He was very protective. Becca was the youngest of his sisters and even though she was definitely, undeniably an adult, he wasn’t sure Bucky wouldn’t want to have words with any fella she’d took a shine to.

And Steve sure didn’t want to get in the middle of a spat between siblings.

Then he got to mallow ( _I’m consumed by desire_ ), and began to feel his ears start to heat up.

“Um, Buck?”

Bucky was loping in front of him, looking a lot more relaxed now Steve had taken over responsibility for the list. He was clutching the bunch of clashing flowers in one fist, and when he turned, he was grinning one of those heartbreaker grins. “Yeah?”

“Um, did Becca say who she wanted the flowers for?”

Bucky’s smile instantly dropped. He turned away. “Errr… No. No, she didn’t.”

“Right.”

There was definitely tension running through Bucky’s shoulders. Steve had thought he’d looked shifty before. Bucky was absolutely, undeniably up to something.

Steve would know for certain in three, two…

“Maybe she... erm… maybe she wanted them for the table.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at the back of Bucky’s neck. “These ones in particular?”

“Yeah…”

Steve let the silence hang there, become unbearable.

“I mean, you know Bec.” Bucky forced a laugh and glanced back over his shoulder. “Bec... dames, they like all of that, don’t they? Flowers and… and…”

He trailed off, clearly aware that even he couldn’t pull off a lie that big. Becca was not, and had never been, that kind of girl. As evidenced by the fact that half the flowers she’d listed were called by names that hadn’t been used in about a hundred years.

Who the hel said jonquil anymore?

Bucky must have noticed Steve’s open skepticism, because he grimaced at the ground for a second, and then stooped by a smattering of purple blooms, selecting a couple to add to the already ridiculously garish bouquet in his hand.

Steve knew that Bucky would recognise that flower. It was his mother’s favourite, and while they were growing up Mrs. Barnes would always have a bunch resting in a clear vase by their kitchen window.

Morning Glory. The Blue Dawn.

_I am yours._

“Buck, stop. What is going on?”

Bucky was scuffing his hooves in the dirt, looking anywhere but at him. “I told ya, Bec-”

“Becca nothin, Buck! Why would she want flowers? Why, if she did have a sudden hankering for them, would she send you? You don’t know a damn thing about plants, Buck, and ya never have!” Bucky had opened his mouth to answer, but Steve was on a roll now. He raised his voice to cut him off. “And, why, in the case of all of that, would she send _you_ to pick up a bouquet that was declarin’ undying love for someone?”

Whatever Steve was expecting, it wasn’t for Bucky to go white. If Steve didn’t know him better, he’d have thought he was about to swoon.

“That’s… what they mean..?”

Steve huffed in a way he hoped sounded less petulant from outside his own head. “Yes, jerk, that’s what they mean. Now, what’s goin’ on?”

Bucky blinked, once, then shot a look up at the sky. “I’m gonna kill Bec.”

“Bucky,” Steve was beginning to get exasperated now. “Who are the flowers for?”

Bucky looked a little trapped, staring at Steve and working his mouth a little.

Then without any words, and with his mouth still hanging slightly open, Bucky thrust the bunch out towards him.

It was in almost exactly the same way someone might brandish a knife, and with exactly as much aplomb.

“Buck…”

Bucky hadn’t moved. He looked a little ridiculous. His hair had fallen forwards across his face, in a way that was in no sense artfully tousled. His eyes were wide, and there was a faint sheen across the skin of his throat and the top of his chest, from walking out in the incongruously hot afternoon spring sunshine.

The bouquet itself was disheveled, clumped together in Bucky’s fist in whatever order he’d happened to shove them together. It was a gaudy rainbow of colours, orange and purple and white, with a few sporadic sprigs of bright green and sharp red. A few of the less robust sprouts were already beginning to wilt over the side of Bucky’s hand.

Steve could see that he was starting to falter, to wilt like the flowers the longer he waited for Steve’s response.

To his credit though, he kept his chin up.

Steve looked down from his face to the flowers again. And then back up.

And ever so slowly, he realised what was happening.

“Buck..?”

Bucky made a noise in the back of his throat, and shook the flowers just a little in front of him. Steve took them gingerly, making sure he collected up all of the drooping sprouts in his hands.

“Bucky, are they..?” Steve clamped his mouth shut because that was a damn stupid question.

Bucky looked at the floor. “I wanted it to be romantic.”

He sounded so miserable that Steve stepped forwards without thinking.

“Hey.” He lifted Bucky’s jaw so that they were facing each other, so that there would be absolutely no ambiguity or misunderstanding. He leaned in to brush their lips together. A single point of warm contact between them. “I love you too.”

It felt like stepping off a precipice. A sudden drop. But it was also easy. The easiest thing in the world.

Everything with Bucky had always been easy.

There was a beat as Bucky searched his face, then broke into another one of those grins. The ones that could stop Steve’s heart.

Bucky’s hands came up to gently cup his jaw. He was laughing. And then they were kissing, properly this time.

Steve was holding the bouquet out at an awkward angle away from his body, to stop it getting crushed between their chests. His other hand was tangled into the warm fur off Bucky’s hip, thumb running over the skin of his flank, and everything, everything about it was perfect.

They broke apart because they were both smiling too much to keep going.

Steve pressed their foreheads together, laughing as he felt his horn catch on the base of Bucky’s antler. “I love you,” he said again, because he could.

He wanted to keep saying it forever.

“You know,” Steve felt himself start to smirk, “there’s still a flower left on your list.”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s thumbs were tracing circles over his cheeks.

“Yeah.”

Steve pulled away, feeling his heart sing as Bucky tried to follow his body. He walked over to a small rockery and carefully pinched off a tall cluster of pink blooms. He returned to Bucky’s side.

“Viscaria.”

He held it out for Bucky to take between pinched fingers.

Bucky looked at it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen and Steve felt his heart go a little wobbly again.

“What does it mean?” Bucky asked.

Steve kissed him again, kept them pressed close together this time. “It’s an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He could feel Bucky’s breath.

“Yeah,” Steve found his lips again, “an invitation to dance.”

Bucky let out a desperate sounding laugh. “Hel, Stevie, when’d you get so slick?”

Steve loved him, from the crinkles around his eyes to the way he bit his lip. Steve loved the way he looked like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, even now. He loved the way Bucky looked when his heart was dancing inside his chest, all that bright wild joy.

Steve loved _him_ , and always had.

He let his voice go real smooth and low, “Well, you know, I had a real good teacher.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another thank you to Fox for helping with the logistics of flower collecting, sorry, I still took a few liberties!! 
> 
> Shinynewpenny and Fox are also collaborating on a fic for CapRBB2019, which I'm betaing for, and it's amazing!!! So keep a look out for that!


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